


The Clothes Make The Man

by KyeAbove



Series: The Reinforcement Of Agony AU [63]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Altered Mental States, Angst, Attempted Murder, Blood, Death Idealization, Description of Body, Dissociation, Gender Dysphoria, Implied Sexual Content, Magic, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 14:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17024043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyeAbove/pseuds/KyeAbove
Summary: October 10th, 1934. Cade Vale, New York. Agony:ConsumingAfter Wally’s clothing is ruined by ink, Joey already has something for Wally to wear.





	The Clothes Make The Man

**Author's Note:**

> Wally is very broken minded here. He’s certainly not thinking like even a semi-rational person, and he’s a bit disconnected from reality. Generally expect any story in October 1934 with Wally to have him rather insane, since he’s been losing his mind and going numb at the same time ever since his fiance’s death. This story is written in a slight style and thus presented in a way that’s intended to mimic how Wally himself is thinking and experiencing things.

~October 10th, 1934~

* * *

There were some days Wally hoped Joey would just get around to killing him too, if that was his plan. Standing in Joey’s office, fresh off his shower after tripping into ink, he really hoped that the knife sitting on Joey’s desk was his lucky break.

The ink Wally had  fallen into had soaked down to his skin, staining it. Not all of those stains had come off in the shower, and Wally was sure his body was further stained when he had to put back on his inked up clothing. Somewhat dried and mostly sticky, the ink made every bit of fabric on his body uncomfortable to wear. 

Joey had found him in that ink puddle, and had panicked like he hadn’t hurt Wally so much before. Panicked, asking if an ink creature had tried grabbing him from the puddle. But Wally had just tripped on his own boots, and tumbled in. 

It’d been his choice to continue lying in the puddle even though it had ruined his clothes. He liked having a choice whenever possible, however big however little, because his life kept getting turned on him.  It had been Joey who’d pulled him out and sent him towards to the showers to clean himself off. And to then stop by his office. Wally could have ignored Joey, but he feared him. 

There was no blood in the room this time. Usually there was, because while Joey killed elsewhere sometimes, his office was his favourite place for a murder. 

And it had always been Wally’s job to clean it up.

When Wally had entered his office, Joey was rummaging around, and still was, and Wally was growing impatient. Wally had been in the shower for some time. If Joey hadn’t found the extra set of clothes he’d claimed to have by now, then Joey was a fool.

“Joey.” Wally spoke, hoping somehow that would speed up the process. 

Joey suddenly shot up from behind his desk, causing Wally to jump back slightly. Joey looked at Wally in relief. 

“I found them! They’re not clean, but no ink stains!” Which, Wally admitted to himself, was fine. The ink was uncomfortable against his body. 

Joey walked over and dumped the clothes on the floor in front of him, and Wally inspected his new wears, with curiosity and defeat. 

The shirt was an off-white and stained on the cuffs, except it was mostly an off brown color. Not made to be so. It was clearly just covered in dried blood. It was...Wally was sure this was Matt’s clothing. Joey had never directly confirmed he’d killed Matt, but where else would his fiance be? And Joey did seem to take joy in the minor things.

Like watching Wally cry over a shirt. Wally wasn’t going to cry and give him that satisfaction. He’d mourn in silence. And blood stained clothes had to be better than ink stained ones, right?

But it was a stab to his heart. He’d worn Matt’s clothing before. Last time, his eighteenth birthday, in a mad scramble to get to the showers before their lunch break ended, and in the cramped quarters of the closet, they’d put on each other’s shirts. This was far different. Here, Matt was dead.

Joey had already busied himself at his desk by the time Wally came back to reality. In a way, Wally was alone. He looked at the clothing once more. He thought briefly he should pick it all up, and find a closet to change in. That’s what the fleeting and dizzy rational bits to his mind, what remained of it at least, told him. But what did it matter where he undressed? Wally didn’t really care all that much. He just wanted the ink away from his body.

His shirt was the first to go. Peeling it off his skin again was a struggle, as it had taken in the most ink. It left more ink stains in its wake, and crumpled differently on the floor than if it had been a clean shirt. 

Wally began wiping at the new ink stuck to his body with a rag he’d grabbed from one of his janitor’s closets. Wally’s hand fell still upon wiping the ink off his stomach area. It still hurt and Wally wondered when he’d just get over it.

Once he had himself cleaned up a bit more, he grabbed for and then hesitated on his chest binder, needing it to feel even just the littlest bit fine, but it too was ruined by the ink. He’d have to sew a new one, and...

He removed it and tossed it with his other ruined clothing. Standing there now barechested, looking down at his burdens. Not caring that Joey could see his breasts if he looked up, or could already see them out of the top of eye. Joey didn’t seem interested anyways, scratching away instead on some drawing with nary a glance upwards. Which was of some comfort. Wally had slept around a lot lately, finding pleasure did away with numbness he felt, if only for just a little bit of time, but he wouldn’t have been comfortable with Joey coming onto him. 

Once finished with that embarrassment, Wally picked up and started unbuttoning the bloodied shirt, his hands shaking the entire time. Shaking, until he dropped the shirt. He wasn’t ready for that yet. 

Hands still shaking, not wanting to waste time, Wally undid his pants. Maybe he’d be fine with the pants! Yes! The pants were brown, and if there was blood on those, it was hidden enough among its colored kind. 

Removing his belt, his pants dropped to his knees almost all their own. He hadn’t been eating as much as he’d used to so he’d lost some weight since purchasing these pants. Wally pulled his pants down to his ankles and then stepped out of them. With little hesitation, because the fabric was just as inked stained and uncomfortable as everything else, Wally also removed his underwear.

Wally had always felt a stranger in his own body. It’d gotten better when he’d started working at the studio, and Henry had given him some of his clothing until he could organize his animators so he could take the day off to bring Wally to shops. To buy his own clothing. Male clothing. Wally wouldn’t mind dresses and skirts and long hair as much if they weren’t so connected to the femininity that had been pushed on him all his life, until Henry took an interest in his well being. 

Staring at his body now, Wally still felt like it wasn’t his own. As he moved, his ponytail brushed against his back. His hair was too long now, but he’d always had trouble cutting it himself, and Shawn, who usually cut his hair because he had experience in doing so, was becoming all but a stranger. They still lived together, but hadn’t really talked since what happened at the beginning of the month.

Seeing his unwanted body and feeling his too long hair against it gave Wally waves of disconnection and hate and he just wanted it all to go away. Wally grabbed the pants from off the floor and stepped into the legs and pulled them up before he could even begin to hesitate. He put his belt back on, but barely needed it. Matt had been rather skinny.  

The shirt, which he could fit over his head now easier than even before, he still immediately stalled on. 

As much as he was trying to tell himself, the blood on the clothing wasn’t the issue. The issue was that the clothes were Matt’s and he’d died in them, and Wally didn’t want him to be dead. Wally wanted to cry, but he hadn’t been able to do that lately. Even in utter despair. 

Braving it, Wally put on the shirt, and buttoned it up. His breasts still were shapes under it, and the icky disconnect wasn’t going away. Still, he couldn’t see them anymore, and felt his hair less and it was just a little bit of a comfort. Barely enough to count, but he’d rather it this way than to still be surrounded in that ink. 

“Joey.” Wally spoke, getting the older man’s attention. Joey looked up, with a smile, and- “Why did you kill Matt?”    
  
The green eyed man looked down at his desk, and frowned just a little. 

“I had nothing to threaten him with. He was willing to die for you after all. So I had to kill him to protect my secrets.” Wally was at Joey’s desk, and slamming his hands down on it in an instant. Before Wally could get an angry word in, Joey looked at him oddly and asked “Are you okay?”   
  
Rage finally boiled into Wally’s numbing heart. Burning, flashing, his hands going for Joey’s neck. But Joey stood a coward, and Wally was left half sprawled on Joey’s desk. 

“Of course I’m not okay! You…” Wally sniffled, but no tears followed. “You killed the man I loved. You’re threatening me into not going to the police. I hate you so much.”  Wally made another feeble grab for Joey, and failing that, yelled out with all could, “No wonder Henry left you!”

Joey’s face darkened. Henry was not a subject to bring up around Joey. Wally didn’t care. There was little point in caring! And he loved how darkened yet helpless Joey looked at the thought of how he’d lost Henry’s love. 

“Get out.” Joey growled, putting his face in his hands. 

And Wally would. 

That is, until he moved and his arm brushed up against the hilt of the knife on the desk. Wally stared down the knife and he recognized it now. It was Sammy’s knife. Matt must have taken it with him into Joey’s office. This was how Joey made Matt bleed, wasn't it? Stabbed and cut by his father’s own knife. What a shame Matt hadn’t been able to put it through Joey instead. 

But Wally could.

Wally swiped the knife and rolled off the desk. He gripped the knife backwards, knowing exactly what he was going to do to Joey. Joey peeked out a little between his fingers and then gasped, lowering his hands.

“I said ‘get out’, not get even.” So Joey was aware what he’d done was wrong. Of course he did.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.” Wally spat back, “I just clean up your messes and it’s repeat, repeat, repeat! Gonna make a mess of my own today.” Wally went around the desk and advanced on Joey. 

Joey actually looked scared of him. Wally liked that. He liked the fear, the power he suddenly had over Joey, and the knife felt  _ right _ in his hand. 

He was in control now. Wally lunged at Joey, and with the sudden force, and that Joey didn’t have the greatest balance due to his leg, and his back problems, Wally was able to knock Joey down and plunge the knife into Joey’s chest. Repeatedly, and with malice.

Wally kept stabbing, blood going everywhere, until his arms were tired. But Joey didn’t die. His eyes glowed greener, and while the blood and tears through Joey’s clothing remained, the stab wounds disappeared. 

“Had your fun?” Joey asked, too calmly for someone who’d been repeatedly stabbed. Wally jumped away, flinging blood, and screeching.

“WHY WON’T YOU DIE?” Wally questioned, looking between Joey and the knife. Looking, and seeing no reason why Joey wouldn’t be dead. Further haunting Wally’s murderous intent, Joey reached up, and used his desk to pick himself up from the bloody ground. 

Joey smirked, while his eyes still glowed that eerie green. 

“I always assumed I was of the old gods.” 

Wally scrambled away, taking the knife, and leaving the office. No, no, no,  _ NO!  _ This was not right. His bare feet scraped on the wooden floor, hurting them but he had to get away. 

He had to-

In his fear, his panic,  _ this emotion _ , Wally ran and ran and ran right into someone. Ran right into Casper Hall, who looked as shocked as Wally was. Still, Casper was a person, a human person, and just as quickly Wally went for a tight hug. 

“Joey is a  _ monster.”  _ Wally knew he was in the arms of another monster, but he didn’t care. Casper hadn’t made Wally clean up murders. Casper didn’t threaten to send him back to his family while not listening to the story of why he left in the first place. Casper hadn’t killed Matt. Joey did all those things and Wally was lesser of a person for it. 

Casper grabbed Wally’s chin, and made their eyes meet. He then wiped away Wally’s  _ tears _ with his other hand, even though Wally thought he’d lost the ability for them. 

And Wally knew in that moment exactly what to do. 


End file.
